


Black Leather Mini

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Caper Fic, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e07 Little Yellow House, F/M, Mild Painplay, Pearl Necklace, Romance, Sexy, Stiletto Heels, Sting - Freeform, Teasing, con - Freeform, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: A bit late for another tag to 707 'Little Yellow House,' but I guess I'm in the mood. Two chapters. I hope it's fun. A little pain and teasing, so if you don't like that, don't read this. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.First posted at FFnet on January 27, 2015. Now here, with minor edits for improved readability.





	1. Chapter 1

The hotel room cleared and the finality of the quiet seemed almost eerie. They were alone, the thing they craved most in every day. No one's company was more calming or made more sense than Jane and Lisbon to each other. It didn't matter what they did, but today Jane had watched shapely Lisbon in her leather mini-skirt over a long evening, her legs so toned and silky that he wanted to test them with his tongue.  


Lisbon picked up her clutch and surveyed the room one last time, preparing to leave it. The panorama of her gaze was captured when she saw Jane standing in place when normally he'd have a hand on the doorknob, ready to open it and follow her out. Instead, he leaned casually back on one foot, color in his cheeks, surveying her with half-lidded eyes, fingers playing softly against his legs. Sea green flashes traveled the length of her body and then studied her face, a soft smile on his. When he finally looked into her eyes, she saw the wet tip of his tongue part his lips and then slip back inside his mouth, leaving her unsettled and a bit warm.  


Now there was color in _her_ cheeks. Her expression reflected the mischief in his. "What are you thinking, Jane?"  


He approached her with a light kiss but leaving the wet of his wiggling tongue tip on her lips. The green of her big round eyes lit up as they went wide and inviting. When she moaned and tried to suck him in, her fingers reached as he pulled away, their tips briefly skating his chest. The shared arousal incited him. "All you have to do is touch me and my head is shooting sparks," he rumbled.  


Her bare shoulders felt suddenly cool as heat flushed through her body. The sensation traveled slowly to her toes, creating illusion . . . her legs the length of a temptress. Tongue wetting her lips, she felt Patrick's approval, conscious of the arch of her stiletto heels and the long naked trip to the tops of her thighs where the thinnest of panties brushed the apex of her aroused female flesh. "I feel sexy in this skirt."  


"You nearly burned the house down." His hands covered her hips, roving and caressing every curve, floating the swells of her ass. "You made one hell of a distraction." Skimming her ribs, he cupped and traced the ample curves of her breasts until she parted her lips, her warm breath drifting onto his face. He had to kiss her. The peaking nipples under his thumbs were lit fuses with long-awaited messages for his tingling balls.  


She captured the tip of his tongue this time, carefully holding it with her teeth while she licked and sucked the tip, restless on her feet.  


Jane dragged one finger down the length of leather from her waist to where the skirt stopped in the middle of her thigh. The supple leather pulled and squeaked as his finger bumped over the little gathering bunches, squeaking its way to the next bump. It was unnerving to both of them.  


"What are you doing?"  


"Feeling you under the leather. Seducing you." His breath was rapid, warm and deep, matching hers.  


"With one finger?"  


"You'd be surprised what I can do to you with one finger."  


"You must think you're pretty hot."  


"It only matters what you think, Teresa."  


Her eyes were dilated, her hairline dampening. "You are always hot, Patrick."  


He squeaked a new track to her other thigh. By this time, she was dewy pink and a tiny thread of sweat lined her upper lip. She stood still for him as he used both fingers, one on each hip, traveling down, down.  


"That's cheating. Two fingers."  


"Bonus. We'll be back to one, soon." He switched to thumbs, running them on a track that pressed the edges of her female flesh and made it push toward him. He held there, twisting the balls of his thumbs, pushing up the plump lips underneath, squashing them together, making them rub until he knew they were wet and sliding.  


Her breath huffed as her swaying body righted itself.  


"You need to lie down. It'll be so much better."  


Before she could turn for the bedroom, he touched her arm, then scooped the back of her head into his large hand, pulling her in for a long kiss. When he backed away, he took her hand and set it on the bulge of his fly, shifting his hold to her wrist. Gently, he moved her hand up and down so that she could feel his arousal increase with her touch.  


Breaking his light grip, she freed her hand to explore and then used both, watching him close his eyes, then sway back as she drew his length across the hipbone, cupping and testing his girth, making him swell.  


"I'm glad you're using all your fingers."  


"I don't have the control you do." She squeezed the head with all five fingertips, making what was under his pants seem alive as it jumped. "Or the discipline." She let go to lead him to the king-size bed, taking him by the hand. The pressure of her other hand against his chest held him in place until she could sprawl on the bed, scooting up by bending a knee and digging a heel in.  


"I think we'll keep your shoes on. I want to feel those stilettos on my ass."  


With her legs open, her sheer panties were barely a dark shadow that teased the part of her lower lips.  


"Watch me, Teresa."  


She lifted to her elbows to do as he asked, her usually pale freckled face ablaze with color, eyes so dark the green was a mere rim.  


Roughly, he pushed the skirt to the top of her thighs, hooking one finger in the waist of her panties, tugging as he went around. When he slid a hand under them, along the contours of her flesh, she rose up. He finished dragging them from her hips, down the length of her smooth legs and slipped them easily over her feet, a flutter of sheer black mist. Letting them float from his fingers, he sniffed them fully and smiled before flinging them adrift.  


She had more for him. Lisbon slowly bent a knee, then let it fall open, licking her lips when his gaze finally lifted to her face. The look in her eye was wicked, craven. No trace of modesty or reserve in the woman exposing herself to her lover, here. "Try one finger on that."  


A clean, wet shine glistened from the broken seal of her labia, painting the cheeks below. "Soaking wet!" Dipping an index finger just inside her, he drew it out, dancing a clear shining thread of her moisture, drawing it up for her to see. Curling forward, holding the skirt hem above her belly, she held him in thrall as she drew her small hand down, down, spreading herself open to lay one finger on her clit. She resisted when Patrick nudged her hand away.  


"Uh! F-. Fu-!" A sharp intake of aroused breath wouldn't let her finish the curse. "Here," she breathed, rubbing a few times before she yielded and settled damp fingertips on the breast of her blouse.  


He let her need flush through him, as warm as a tropical sea. His fingers pushed flat on her cushy vulva, the middle one nudging, then rolling over her clit as her hips undulated with his hand.  


When he moved faster, she lifted hard, gasping, then angled her head to speak to him. "Take off your clothes, Patrick. I'm ready to dig my heels into your ass."  


"Open your blouse and take off your bra."  


"I'll open it. You take it off me." Watching him undress, she opened her blouse and reached behind to unfasten the strapless bra, black and silky. "Oh, god, Patrick. You're handsome."  


He stood naked at the foot of the bed, broad torso and ready muscles defining the strength of his shoulders and arms. His erection arched long and thick, glistening a little at the head. Teresa knew he was deeply aroused, his control tenuous. Bending forward, his graceful hands reached for her, settling on her thighs, stroking their length, the pressure of his thumbs signaling her to open her legs wider.  


Knowing he wanted to fill his eyes with her, the eroticism was almost overwhelming as she drew up both of her knees, pushed higher by the stiletto heels, and let them drop with a soft cry.  


The weight pulled her open, exposing everything hot and wet and swollen to his hungry gaze, the shoes making her seem wanton . . . and dangerous. His eyes traveled the contours of her open sex. "Beautiful flower . . ."  


Sex affected Jane like no other man Lisbon had known. Sometimes a sleek predator, following instinct. Sometimes he let the act take him, making her a participant in a physically transcendent experience that was almost living art. Until recently, she'd only read about it in books. "Come here."  


He moved up the bed on his knees, offering himself to her fingers, the instruments of her love. Her touch was light, whispering, and he closed his eyes to open himself to her caress. Intense pleasure issued in waves from her gentle hand. Blood heating at the root flooded his veins, flushing into the cooler places, raising gooseflesh, warming his body until his heart pounded. He gasped and sat back on his heels, a hair's breadth from losing control. "Lisbon!"  


"My love . . ." She smiled as he trembled, flushed pink and regaining control. So handsome. So sensitive.  


Taking only a moment to catch his breath, he pulled Teresa's bra away and settled at her breasts to drive her mad while he rubbed his hard flesh onto the wet below, refusing to enter her until she came, smiling and breathing high-pitched sighs.  


Turning her firmly, he pulled her to her knees, and shoved the leather to her waist, then slapped each cheek of her bottom without soothing it. She cried out at the sudden sting but pushed closer as his prints rose pink on her creamy flesh. He would pay.  


When he entered her, it was with a fury of need and she urged him on, knowing that he would satisfy her pleasure, too. But she stole a climax quickly and pulled away from him, still pounding inside. His frustrated cry was almost strangled by his lust at the edge of completion.  


Flipping to her back, she drew him up her body, still groaning, and pushed her breasts together for him. With a cry of relief, he thrust his swollen cock into the tunnel between them, bending to watch it move between the mounds of her quaking flesh. Teresa watched, too, panting. The mix of their scents on his aroused flesh intoxicated them.  


"I want your necklace, Patrick!"  


In the crimson fog of his lust, he paused. "No," pulling away with a messy sound.  


"Please." Teresa held her breasts for him, a plea, fanning the tips with her fingers. "My necklace."  


He kissed and nibbled the rosy knots of flesh she held to him, watching her hips roll in the desire he created. But instead, he kneeled between her thighs, pushed her open and impaled her, loving the growl of lust from her throat as she began to meet his thrusts.  


Suddenly he felt the points of her stilettos, digging into each buttock.  


She imagined the deep dimples she must be making in those round, succulent cheeks. The thrill made her press her sex closer, move harder.  


Pain was pleasure, and Patrick took off like a spurred stallion given its head to run, run like the wind. The beautiful glide was poetry, exquisite pain until with a last, crushing curl of his hips he finished amidst desperate cries of love, with kisses that tried to seal their souls together.  


When their heat subsided to tender squeezes and butterfly kisses, they got up, preparing to leave their borrowed love nest. The bathroom had a bidet. Jane cleaned up at the sink, sudsy and enthralled by Lisbon's grace in using the basically awkward appliance. The rounds of her shapely rump parted as she scooped and released small handfuls of warm water to rinse the mildly scented soap away from her most secret places. He resolved that she should have a bidet in any house that became "theirs," for both their pleasures.  


Lisbon noticed his captivation. "Bad boy's going to catch a cold if you don't finish and dry him off." She stood with a hand towel between her legs, patting herself dry.  


"You finish him." A hot twinkle in his eye.  


Her look was warm and knowing, arching an eyebrow as she watched his flesh stiffen a little. "I believe I have twin bad boys in my life . . . and I love them both." Sidling next to him, she finished the wash and then rinsed him, drying him gently with her towel.  


"I like the way you handle me."  


"So I see." Setting the towel aside, she pressed an easy hand on his chest and kissed him tenderly, swiping his lips with her tongue. "Save it for a little while . . . I need to be fed if I'm to keep up with you tonight." She flicked the head of his stiff penis and went to find her bra and panties.  


"What's your pleasure?" Jane began to dress.  


Lisbon looked sideways at him, with a sly smile.  


"For dinner, you little rutting beast," he grinned.  


"Mmmmmm, a little pasta with crab meat . . . in a lemony sauce . . . and a small salad with endive and capers. Something crisp in a white wine."  


"Ah! Sienna's it is. Very specific. We must feed you precisely what you need . . . Fricassea con Granchio e Porri. And lightly buttered angel hair on the side. They always have endive in the kitchen."  


"To go."  


"Of course."  


"Tell them just a few tomatoes. Too many overpower the crab. And you? What will you have?"  


"I'm thinking. Something robust and alive to sustain me for your demands tonight. But seafood, too, I think. Perhaps the Cacciucco alla Livornese . . ."  


"Mmmmm. Your favorite."  


Dressed, they approached the door to go out when Teresa turned and caressed the now soft flesh between Patrick's legs. "You owe me a necklace."  


"Yes. Pearls, I believe."  


Their lips tight with satisfied grins, they bussed each other and started down the hall, Jane pulling out his cell phone and fondling Teresa's bottom with his free hand.  


"Yes. Siena's. Good! My girlfriend and I want something to take home . . ."  


Teresa smiled. Patrick loved calling her that. And she loved hearing it. She hugged his free arm. "You're a good boyfriend."  


He turned, smiling broadly and kissed her in the middle of a sentence before returning to their order. Patrick loved when she called him that.


	2. Chapter 2

Lisbon slipped into the driver's seat when Jane went in to get the take-out. Heading for the driver's side, Jane smiled and pivoted easily when he saw his seat had been changed.  


"Is there a strategy?"  


"Uh-hmmm. I'm famished and this will keep me from raiding those delicious-smelling bags before we get home." She giggled when she heard his stomach growl.  


"Maybe I should be driving."  


"I think we've established you have better discipline and control than me-. Hey!"  


Jane pulled a container from the large bag.  


"Don't worry. This is my dinner, not yours."  


"You're going to eat in front of a starving woman?"  


Popping a corner of the lid open, Jane fished in a finger only to yelp in pain, yanking it into his mouth to cool, sucking the sauce noisily.  


Lisbon cackled and Jane gave her a slightly wounded look.  


They ate ravenously at the Airstream's table, sloshing down plenty of cold, cold white. The large yellow half-moon was bright in the sky, washing out the stars, and the city lights to the west drowned the rest. They sat out to gaze at it, letting their food settle. The night air eventually became too chilly and they went inside in the wee hours of morning.  


"Will you sleep nude with me tonight, Patrick?"  


"We'll need to put extra blankets on the bed. You know I get cold. And-."  


She gave him a wet kiss and ran her fingers through his hair. "I know, poor baby. I'll keep you warm."  


" _And_ . . . my girlfriend hogs the covers."  


"I do not!"  


"Ever wonder why you're pinned to the wall every morning? Because my frozen tushy is hanging out of the covers and you're a toasty warm burrito! One more roll of the blankets and I'm sleeping in the night air! You're the warmest thing going in our bed."  


"Why didn't you say?"  


He grinned and pulled her close. "Because I like it when you peel my pajamas off me."  


"I wondered why you never wear them at my house."  


"Bigger covers, warmer bedroom. Now you know."  


Putting her fingers on his vest buttons, she began undoing them. "Let's get you out of these. Just pretend they're your pajamas."  


"Mmmmm, do you like the piping?"  


"Very manly." Unfastening his cuffs, she started on his shirt buttons, then slipped everything off at once, laying them neatly on the bench seat of the table.  


"There's a drawstring at the waist."  


"I like that especially-- pull a string and I'm in! Those roomy bottoms make it easy to get at you in a hurry." She unzipped his pants, enjoying the feel of his big warm hands on her back as he used her for balance to step out of them. He was tenting his briefs rather severely and the thin material was already damp and clingy from his heat. Kneeling, she put her mouth on the cloth at the head of his erection and blew her warm breath there before she took them down.  


He wrapped his arms around his chest, flapping his hands on them.  


"Chilly?"  


"Brrrr!"  


She stepped behind him, filling her hands with his round butt cheeks. "Oh, my. Tushy's already getting cold. Here. She pasted her body to his, swinging her hands forward to rub his chest and belly, then lower to fill her hands with his excited flesh.  


Humming, he thrust into them, starting a side-to-side rhythm with his hips as he pressed his bottom against her. After a few moments, he said, "Your clothes hurt."  


"Oh, my. You are tender."  


He kept moving.  


"Jane. Stop moving your ass if it hurts." She started kissing his back and roamed the muscles of his chest instead.  


"Are these hard because you're cold or because you're excited?" She fingered his nipples.  


"Cold."  


Lisbon took her hands down.  


"But you can keep handling me. Bad boy's happy for the attention . . ."  


"I'd rather have you comfortable and toasty. Get in bed and I'll turn on your favorite program. Bad boy will have plenty of action."  


There was no television in the Airstream, but Jane knew what she offered. "Teresa in the wild?" He wrapped himself in the blankets, his face peeking out like a papoose to watch as she undressed. It was indeed his favorite program, next to undressing her himself.  


Clicking off the lights, inside and out, filled the interior with moonlight and Patrick could not take his eyes from her pale moonshot skin.  


Whatever Teresa uncovered, she brushed with her hands, pretending they were Patrick's hands, moving where and how he would, undressing her. She was surprised how arousing it felt. When she was down to her bra and panties, she allowed her hands to drift over them, slipping her hands in to feel what he might feel . . . her skin, warm and silky. Her nipples. She held them outside the cups of her bra so that Patrick could watch her tweak the erect peaks. She scratched the soft pelt she kept trimmed over her sex and dipped her fingers in the welling wet, knowing he could see their movement under the sheer fabric of her panties. "Oh, god, Patrick. Let me under the covers with you!" She shed her underwear.  


Jane held the blankets open and she snuggled against his warm, excited body. Hiking her leg over his hip, she moved closer, encouraging him to enter her. This he did slowly, guiding himself in as he nibbled her neck, said her name in her ear. When he held her slightly away so he could use his mouth to toy with her breasts and nipples, she curled her hips so that he could slip in to the hilt. She sighed and began to move with him.  


Before long, Patrick was on top of her, moving so slowly she felt she would lose consciousness because of the heightened sensation. He used his full length for every slow thrust in and every slow pull out. When it hit, the orgasm overwhelmed her with its strength. She clutched his arms, tossing her head and calling his name. He kissed her tenderly until she eased, whispering over and over that she was beautiful, that he was with her and it was all right.  


Her eyes dreamy, she thanked him for giving her the wonderful feeling, raking his hair gently with her fingers. "You always make me feel so good."  


He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand, then tugged out of her wet grip. "Hold your breasts for me, Teresa."  


"My necklace . . ."  


"I haven't forgotten. And I want to feel you, watch as I give it to you." Kneeling over her, he inched up to lay his blood-laden cock heavily on her chest. It was hot, wet with their juices, the head already wedged into the bottom of her cleavage. "Jesus, you look beautiful, your flesh so round and ripe, making a passage for my cock." Excited, he began to move, slowly at first to make her slick with the juices he carried from inside her, and then with the moisture he leaked as his excitement grew.  


His movement, his abandon as he began to lose control, spiraling hard flesh along the center of her chest, his balls tickling everywhere they trailed, sent a charge of eroticism through Teresa's body and she threw her head back, gasping. Patrick lengthened his strokes to bump the plump head against the soft flesh under her chin, rubbing wet circles as he rolled his hips. Calling low and in rhythm with his movement, he suddenly gasped, "Hold it close. Hold it close." He slowed down, pulling back until only the head of his cock poked from her cleavage.  


Teresa pressed him down as he gave a loud sigh and his warmth pulsed onto her chest, trickled down both sides of her neck.  


Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and managed a smug grin and a broken chuckle. "You're beau- utiful."  


"I want to see what you gave me."  


"Pearls, my love." Fighting a powerful urge to collapse and sleep, he grunted as he forced himself to move off of her and climb out of bed. But he brought her the hand mirror from the bathroom, and clicked on the little light over the bed.  


She smiled into the glass. "It's pretty." Then she looked at him and winked. "And such a large necklace."  


He winked back, then thought of his warm bed. "May as well get the extra blankets while I'm up. Do you want to clean up?"  


Lisbon groaned. "I'm too tired. I just want to sleep."  


"Here, then." A warm, damp washcloth was already in his hand. Bending to her, he gently cleaned her neck and then himself.  


They spooned together and fell asleep.  


Jane noticed the contrast in his body first. His backside felt icy as he shivered awake, while his chest and legs toasted nicely against the little heater with the brunette curls. Raising his head in the morning light, he shook it slowly with a rueful smile on his face. Teresa had hogged all the extra covers, too!  


But as he moved, the pleasant feeling that expanded into his groin took his mind from those things. His morning wood was wedged on the cleft under Teresa's bottom, rubbing. He rubbed some more, slipping his fingers between, separating the cheeks to burrow deeper. Then he traced the features of her back and shoulders, kissing the places that seemed sweet to him. She was a bit sweaty and salty and the hair that touched her back was damp.  


Teresa moaned, frustrated even in her sleep by the heavy covers. "Hot," she said weakly and struggled to be loose from them.  


"Yes . . . two extra stolen blankets have you steaming like a hot dog." Jane's hand slipped under her arm to cup a sweaty breast. "But a hot dog with some very nice features." He squeezed and then pushed between her legs. "But I'll help you out."  


"Do I have all the covers?"  


Jane rolled his eyes and pulled her hand to feel his meat-locker rump, jutting into the open air.  


"Ah! You're freezing!" She pulled her hand quickly away.  


He thought about turning and planting his cold cheeks on her lower back, but bad boy was too interested in mining at the moment. "Lift your leg a little, sweetheart . . ."  


"I'm hot, god dammit! I'm hot! Help get all these blankets off of me!" Her voice was fretful, irritated and . . . overheated.  


Jane pulled several layers from her and wedged them at his back and legs, hoping his ass wouldn't get pins and needles as it thawed out. He pulled her covers to her hips and listened to her pant, stroking her side. "Better . . . my little flower?" He tried to hold his chuckle in but it escaped his pressed lips in a rude sound.  


"All right, all right. I'm sorry I swore. But I was getting desperate. And you were just making me hotter."  


"That's good to know." He started to thrust a little harder, pushing deeper and hoping to hit something wet. "Can you lift your leg a little, now?"  


She rubbed her bottom against him. "Yes. But don't go in me. I want to feel you, first." She curled forward and propped her leg up. "Okay, push. I want to see . . . oh! There you are. Very sweet." She saw the head of his penis and began to pet it as he moved. Angling her hips, she guided it across her entrance and pressed, helping Jane to push it across the wet there, making the head dip in. "Oh, that feels good! Just a little further and you'll be bumping my-. Oh yes, right there, Patrick." She held him close to her body as he slid across her clit, over and over.  


Taken by the sight of her pale, freckled back, brushed by her long dark curling hair, he put his hands there, feeling the curve as she bent to watch him between her legs. He was awash in the sensation of her. Her fingers, her wet, the contours of her sex, rolling over that hard knot of flesh as he listened to her croon and sigh, urging him on. "Now, Teresa. I want inside you now."  


On his next stroke, she arched her back and pushed him in.  


"Oh! So warm and sweet!" He bit her neck and she squeaked with pleasure, pushing harder onto his rigid cock. Lowering his hips made it easier to meet her.  


"Hard! Fuck me ha-!"  


He knocked the word away with her breath on his next thrust, and she started to moan. "More! Wait! Not your teeth. Just that fat cock of yours! Slam it into me, Patrick. Move it around." Her nipples felt like sparklers, tingling bursts of sensation that made her cry out. Inside, her core was quickening, swelling tight as it succumbed to the blur of erotic sensation her lover created with his movements. "I, I'm gonna come. Oh god, it's big . . ." She lapsed into rhythmic huffs that were part scream.  


Blood hot now, Patrick pumped hard, controlling the angle of his thrust for the pleasure of hearing his lover's sounds of sexual surrender. Cupping her breasts in his palms, he pinched both nipples hard and rolled them between thumb and finger. She screamed low and her muscles clamped him, the rhythm sucking and incomprehensibly strong. He was past the point of return, erupting with her in orgasm. "Oh god, I love you," he gasped, and felt her small hand reach back to rub his hip while they throbbed together and then cooled down.  


Teresa rolled over to rest her head on his chest and they snuggled to sleep for a couple more hours.  


When Patrick awoke the next time, Teresa was already out of bed, naked and mussy, folding the extra blankets.  


"Morning," she said to his sleepy face, the state of his hair unmentionable and adorable at the same time. She smiled at him and he had to smile back.  


"What are you doing?"  


"Putting these extra blankets away."  


"So I get to keep my pajamas?"  


"Yes. Apparently, your health is at stake. Your lover is a cover thief."  


"I don't mind."  


Making a rude sound with her lips, "I would."  


He nodded and smiled. It's true. He'd never hear the end of it if he stole her covers.  


"Get up! I'm going to make you some breakfast!"  


"If you're making it, I'll just relax here and watch. You make a pretty sight."  


She tromped to the closet and put on a robe. "There. Go take a shower, we're covered with love-scuzz. I'll take one while you're eating."  


"What about your breakfast?"  


"I feel like something sweet - pastries, I think. And thick coffee. If you cooperate, we can leave as soon as I get out of the shower."  


Jane got up and bussed her on the cheek. "Anything, my sweet, to avoid grumpy, hungry Lisbon. And I know it's imperative that we get some coffee into you as quickly as possible." As he headed to the bathroom, he heard the sound of the stove lighting and a pan being set on the burner. His stomach rumbled. She was getting pretty good at scrambled eggs.


End file.
